


i am the surest sign of life for a thousand miles

by racheltuckerrr



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Cerberus Ships It, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Heavy Drinking, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, hades and persephone bring the world back into tune challenge 2k19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racheltuckerrr/pseuds/racheltuckerrr
Summary: persephone has a stupid idea. hades has an even stupider idea. one thing leads to another.





	i am the surest sign of life for a thousand miles

**Author's Note:**

> \- i have this headcanon that while drunk!persephone is snippy and desperate and lashes out as a coping mechanism, drunk!hades is sad and bitter and turns the hate towards himself instead.  
> \- title from mission drift because i cannot help myself and was literally listening to a mashup of "Talk To Me Vegas"/"How Long" while i was writing this (if anyone has any idea what half of those words mean)

It’s October and Persephone doesn’t take the train back.

She sends Hermes ahead with the next shipment and decides to walk the track instead, tells her mama's raised eyebrows it’s to let the season go gently. After all, this is the first full-length summer in a good long while and mortal folks are bound to miss her more than usual now that she's goin' back down again to old man winter. Demeter looks at her like she knows her daughter is chock-full of bullshit, but blissfully for once her mother doesn’t comment, just sends her on her way with a kiss and a basket full of apple pie.

The road is familiar enough if a little dull and mostly unforgiving, but Persephone is an outdoor girl, so she hangs the basket on one arm, hikes her green dress up when it’s needed and follows the telephone wire and the railroad track while the birds up above sing their parting tunes to her in wistful harmony. Even they know it’s time to fly on by towards warmer climate.

Except if you happen to be the queen of the underworld. 

Persephone walks on by with her basket, occasionally stealin’ a piece of pie into her mouth as her country home slowly disappears from view. The real truth of it is that she's stallin’ of course, wanting to give herself a good think before facing her husband again. It’s been a whole six months after the whole ordeal with the poet and his wife, but she still doesn’t feel like she’s ready. 

Hades still loves her, thank the gods. And he _did_ wait. He did. They didn’t talk very much during her time up-top, but they managed a few letters here and there, so Persephone made sure that Hades knew exactly what he had promised her. Even still, she can’t help imagining his face when she finally gets home to him, painted in dissatisfaction as he accuses, “Did you take the walk so you would have even less time to spend with this old man?”

 _Did_ she?

She sighs as she thinks about that, shaking her head slightly. All this thinking makes her feel so old, and Persephone is not young by any stretch, but she ain't never felt as worn and tired as she does these days. Tired of the fighting, tired of the friction. Well, this kind of friction anyway.

Back when they were young, it was hard to be in the same room without tearing their _clothes_ off, they were burnin' so hot for each other during the six months when they were apart. That's when they started the tradition of writing letters and having as many little visits as they could get away with between his work and her mama because it turns out six months is a long time to spend apart when you’ve just found love.

Nowadays, she can't even go two steps with Hades without wanting to tear his face off for one thing or another. Usually for not respectin' her time like he is supposed to, but Persephone isn't very picky in her cause for resentment. Deep down, she understands his reasons, but that don't make it okay when he cuts summer off at the knees before she's even had the chance to blossom. She knows that her being away is harder on him than he lets on, but it’s not like it ain’t hard on her too, and it turns out that six months is not enough time at all. 

Not even close.

The road bends as the track turns into the forest, parting the trees so the industrial rail line can run through the otherwise untouched landscape like an iron vein on the surface of the earth. Persephone breathes deep the scent of pine trees and moss and _nature_ and feels lighter for it as she keeps on walking, eventually leaving it all behind.

It would be quite the trek if she were a mortal, days, or maybe even a whole week, but for her, it will only take a couple extra hours compared to the train. Persephone ain’t made of sugar, but it’s still an unconventional choice; she’s only ever walked this way once, a mighty long time ago, when she wanted to surprise Hades by coming home early for their anniversary, and she didn’t want him knowin’ about her plans. 

Back then, kingdom was much smaller, just a town like any other, quieter and more natural in the way of things than what it eventually became. _Kinder_ , for all that irony. Persephone had found her husband sitting in her little garden, missin’ her. She snuck up on him like a secret lover, took residence on his lap as his face split into a smile so wide it could light up the underworld. 

Later, he unwrapped his present and Persephone basked in his attention as he begged her to let him lay her down in the dirt like the day they married. They didn’t leave that patch of grass for the next few hours, and nobody could begrudge the king and queen those few days at summer’s end when it made them both so happy that Hadestown itself hummed the song of their love all through that winter, warming every inhabitant to their very bones. 

But that was back then when she was a young girl still. This time, however, turns out to be the worst idea she’s had all summer, and Persephone herself catches on to that right quick after her boots finally land on the cobblestone on the other side of the godforsaken walls of Hadestown. 

The underworld recognizes her of course, the hard iron gates immediately opening for their queen, which is all fine and dandy, but even unannounced as she came, Persephone expected some manner of reception at least. But her husband doesn’t come to greet her, didn’t even bother to send a messenger, which probably doesn’t bode well since the train must have arrived hours before her. Cerberus is also nowhere to be found, which is odd in itself considering how much the pup adores her; it used to be that Persephone couldn’t even put her bags down before the dog jumped her and showered her with his affections. 

Now though, nothing but dead silence, which don’t seem like a good sign, even in Hadestown, and Persephone quickens her step, shades parting to give her way as she passes them by. Still, no sign of Hades and doubt is about to come trickling into the back of her mind like bitter wine, when at once Persephone senses the presence of something that she hasn’t felt in an awfully long time. 

_Gone._

At first it’s about as potent as a summer breeze, and she almost misses it completely, but with each step she takes toward their home where she is now certain her husband will be, the clearer the words become in her mind. His words.

 _Gone, gone, gone._

There is no mistaking the thoughts of her man, not for Persephone, and not when he’s being this loud about ‘em. It’s been practically forever ago that they were last able to hear each other like this, and she doesn’t dare stop to think about what this means.

_She’s gone._

Oh, hell no! She needs to find him, the old fool. His despair echoes through Hadestown, only for her to hear. Hades has never been this vocal about his thoughts, but she figures if he truly thinks her gone then there ain’t much anyone else to hear his wailings. No one listenin’ in on this ancient channel anyway. 

He's not making much sense and the words are jumbled in a way that is unfamiliar coming from him, but Persephone gathers enough to understand that he saw the empty train and mistook it for her leavin' him for good, the stupid brute. And ain't that just the crux of things, Persephone thinks. They’ve both become so fearful in their old age, Hades of losing her, Persephone of losing herself. In the end, it made them both lose sight of what was right in front of them instead.

She debates letting her voice out to join his, at least to try, but he doesn’t seem to be listening, and she’s close now anyway, almost home as she walks up the big staircase that leads to the main entrance. Persephone can tell that he is not far now. Only needs to follow the sound of his nonsense to locate her man and stop whatever fit he is having.

Okay, so maybe this wasn't her _finest_ idea yet. 

The thought forms as she enters the dining room, and solidifies into concrete truth when she takes in the sight in front of her. Hades, slumped over himself in his seat, glass in front of him while Cerberus whines miserably at his feet under the table. Well, that’s one mystery solved. Empty bottles roll around on the floor, too many to count. He's been at it for a _while_ because even Persephone couldn't put away this much whiskey in one sitting and live to tell the tale.

Gods or not, poison is poison, even if it takes a lot more of it to do any real damage. But out of the two of them, only Persephone enjoys taking advantage of that fact. Her husband, on the other hand, is not a drinker. An occasional indulgence here and there, sure he wouldn’t say no to that and especially not to her, but he mostly likes to drink for the taste, not the experience. Persephone drinks to dull the taste of everything else that’s turned sour over the years, and it doesn't take long to get to the point where the type of poison one's consuming don't seem to matter much at all in that endeavour. 

Hades looks like he's not only reached that point but had some serious words with it, punched it into the ground and kept plowing through without a care in the world.

“Well, fuck me.”

He raises his head at that, looks in her general direction. Or...well, close enough.

“You-” he accuses her, and even though it’s not clear what of, Persephone feels the guilt prickling her skin all the same. It’s not a pleasant feeling, and for a moment she entertains taking the remainder of his whiskey and tossing it down herself. “Look like s'one I know.”

In all their years together in this life, she’s never actually seen her mighty king of a husband so completely wasted before. And even worse than that, there is a small, terrible part of her that delights in having such power over him; delights in the fact that she still _matters_ enough for him to do something like this.

“She hot?”

Recognition flares in his eyes then, and Persephone watches his entire face tighten. Playtime's over.

“Hot ‘n cold, more like,” Hades spits and it's not just his venom that spills out on the table between them. He's a sorry sight, and Persephone can't help but think about how many times he must have seen _her_ like this. Mortified is not even close to how that makes her feel. 

She sits down across from him and tries not to make things worse. Problem is, where Persephone excels most is at making things worse.

“Suppose you ain't drinkin' to my good health then, husband?”

She winces because that didn't come out right at all, but Hades just looks at her with those big dark eyes of his, barely even blinking, as if he’s a statue of solemnity. Not that that fools her at all. He’s hazy as fuck alright, but somehow still there under all that liquor and rancor. Sometimes she thinks he really _is_ invincible, given all that she’s put him through. Impervious. Like a medieval fortress that can't be taken.

By anyone else but her. At least, she hopes that’s still the case.

"I ain't never wished nothin' but goodness for you," he says quietly, all matter of fact and not looking at her as he worries the silver band around his finger. Cerberus scrambles closer to her under the table, until he’s lying between their feet, stretches out there with a whine and licks her feet. "The best of everything. Maybe that ain't me, but that's what ya deserve."

Persephone aches all over at those words, stupid as they are. 

“Let me be the judge of what I deserve,” she reaches across the table and puts her hand over his arm. Hades is gripping that glass of whiskey so hard she's surprised it's still in one piece, and Persephone must be losing her mind because there is no other explanation for what she says to him next. “Why don’t you love me like this anymore when you’re sober?”

He grits his teeth, and she is horrified to see great big crocodile tears rolling down his cheek. Bad move. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Why don’t you?”

Persephone freezes, hand recoiling from him to wrap around herself instead because that hit the _spot._ Hades ain’t never been drunk enough before to wound her without meaning to, he’s always so calculatin' and cold and _intentional_ about it, so the fact that hurting her was clearly not the intention now almost makes it hurt even more so.

But then again, she started it.

She wants to run. Close herself away and lick her wounds in private. Drink whatever poison is left after he raided their reserves, and put herself in a coma of bittersweet oblivion, even just temporarily. It would be so much easier than this. Than facing the consequences of her own damn actions. 

Instead, she comes around to his side and pries the drink out of his iron grip, hauls him upright with both of her arms under his, and leads the both of them upstairs with a little more effort than she’d ever admit to. He's heavy as lead and drunk enough to let her take his whole weight, for once. Persephone doesn’t mind, she’s a goddess after all, and all the hiding the both of them have been doing obviously haven’t got ‘em anywhere good.

She takes him to the bedroom, the one they used to share before it all went to hell, and sets him down in the middle of the bed. He’s completely knocked out, having dozed off on her shoulder on the way up, smells spectacularly of booze, and about to start snoring like a freight train any minute now and even so, she hesitates to leave him. He is also shivering, sad, and lonely, and Persephone knows well enough what it’s like to wake up alone after a night like that, especially when the person you really want by your side is only down the hall. So she stays and curls up in the bed next to him, not quite touching, but never too far, just in case. 

When she wakes up a few hours later, the shower is running and she wonders if she’s overstayed her welcome (which is ridiculous, for so many reasons) and then in true Persephone fashion, decides to take it a step further. 

She walks into the bathroom, calls his name once to announce herself before walking straight into the elegant but modest black brick-walled open shower where her husband is currently standing under a steady spray of fresh water. Persephone doesn’t wait for an invitation as she drapes her hair over one shoulder, kicks the slippers off her feet, takes the sponge out of his frozen hand, and washes him methodically with gentle strokes up and down his chest while Hades stands there blinking, but otherwise completely motionless.

It’s intimate in a way they haven’t been for far longer than she’s stopped sharing his bed. The sound of the running water fills her ears, providing a rhythm, and Persephone softly hums a forgotten tune under her breath without even noticing. Might be that it ain’t so forgotten just yet.

That seems to snap him out of it and Hades grabs her wrist just as she’s about to start rubbing shampoo into his hair, “Seph.” 

Her heart hammers in her chest and her eyes widen as she raises them to look at his face. He hasn’t called her that in _years._

“Yes?” Persephone inquires but doesn’t stop what she is doing, and Hades closes his eyes briefly when she massages his scalp with mostly steady fingers. It’s so damn nice that she almost feels like crying at how close they’ve come to throwin’ this all away.

“I thought...” And he must be thinking the same because there is a sadness in his eyes that mirrors her own, but dwelling on that now is not their way out of this.

“I know what you thought, you stupid man." 

He lowers his head like he's ashamed, and she kicks herself yet again for her insensitivity. They've both gotta start doin' a whole lot better than this, and she knows she has a part in that just as much as he does. 

“ _My_ stupid man.” 

She takes his face in her hands and lets her body come in contact with his wet frame. He makes no move to bring her closer, doesn’t even reach out to hold her so Persephone pushes herself flush against him for good measure until he gets the idea. She still has her clothes on, and they’re rapidly soaking through all the way to her skin everywhere they touch. She doesn’t care. 

“Don’t you know I would never survive without ya?” She reaches up to take his big chin in her hand, firm but kind because he is in a state, but he needs to understand her right now. It’s important, otherwise they’re sure to be back to the same old vicious circle the next time around. “Do you honestly think it’s just you that’s lonely six months out of every twelve?”

“But you always leave.” 

“Leave because I have to, Hades.” She rests her forehead on his, willing their minds back into sync. Willing the world back into tune. “But I always come back to you, don’t I?”

“Cause you have to,” he says with a bone-deep sadness that she knows he’s been quietly cultivatin’ for a long time now. His own little garden of sorrows. 

But it takes two to tango, and Persephone knows all too well that she’s had her fair share in letting him come to that belief, planting every single one of his doubts, and letting them grow instead of helping him weed the intruders from his heart before they could take root and spoil everything that was otherwise healthy and ripe. 

Seeing as Persephone’s supposed to be the one in this marriage with the green thumb and all that. 

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” she tells him now and hopes to Gaia it isn’t too late. “It ain't my favourite thing either, this hot ‘n cold game we play, but I sure as hell wouldn't do it for anyone else.”

Of course, for anyone else, she wouldn't have to, and Persephone can see the excuse light up the fire of protest in his eyes already, but she doesn't let it get out, covers his mouth with her finger to silence such thoughts, at least outside his head where she has the power to reach. 

“Just take the damn compliment for what it is, lover.”

She stares him down until Hades finally nods, and Persephone melts a little when he kisses her finger as a peace offering. 

They don’t talk much after that, not with words anyway. He helps her peel the drenched fabric off her skin, she tosses it away and goes back to the task at hand, caressing his skin as she goes, and making him shiver; it’s a whole different kind of language between them, one they haven’t used in a long while, but it comes back as easy as breathing once their minds are quiet and they let muscle memory take over. After she’s satisfied with her work and done cleaning him, Hades takes over for her and lathers her sun-kissed skin all over lovingly with reverent movements, and Persephone feels holy for the first time in centuries. 

They dry themselves off with fluffy towels and gentle hands, lie back down in bed together talking in hushed voices and whispered promises, and eventually fall asleep curled around each other, both sleeping soundly well into the morning hours. 

There is no sunlight in the underworld, nor bird sound to announce the new day so Persephone wakes Hades with fervent kisses that are not only meant to rouse but arouse and communicate her desire for her husband in no uncertain terms. In the face of his wife’s newly reclaimed passion, Hades is only a man with the taste of nectar upon his lips; he responds to her in kind as only a man starving for her affection can, the ancient blood boils in his veins and sings at her touch, and the king and queen of the underworld spend the next few hours lost in each other's loving embrace.

“How long, lover?” Persephone asks Hades, looking straight into his eyes.

“Too damn long,” he answers, and then they are lost again between kisses, and a sea of whispered declarations ranging from “I’m sorry” to “not again”.

Their problems won’t be fixed overnight, and Persephone knows this all too well, but things are certainly lookin’ up for the first time in a long time, and she is grateful enough to take this small victory for what it is: a second chance.

Outside the bubble of their home, the city is waking up too, and a soft humming sound echoes around the streets, between the old cobblestones, down in the mines and foundries, and eventually finds its way into the homes and hearts of its inhabitants. 

No one quite knows what the melody is, or why they seem to remember it from long ago, but soon enough, everyone is humming along to the same ancient song that once made the world go round. 

Maybe, if we’re lucky, it will do so again.

**Author's Note:**

>  _the_ shower: [this one](http://www.architectureartdesigns.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/1207.jpg) with [these brick walls](https://nuworldplastics.com/ekmps/shops/b3885c/resources/Design/tile-range-black.jpg)


End file.
